


Residual, My Dear Camille

by 19RosesofLifeandDeath98



Category: Stitchers (TV)
Genre: Camille is a hard core camsten shipper, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-27
Updated: 2016-12-26
Packaged: 2018-09-12 13:46:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9074539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/19RosesofLifeandDeath98/pseuds/19RosesofLifeandDeath98
Summary: These feelings couldn't be her own. Residual emotion, that's all it was. That's why she was taking Cameron to the drive in. Her heart would stop beating so loud eventually, she was sure. Nice and fluff filled.





	1. Chapter 1

“Excuse me, everyone,” Maggie projected from where she stood over the railing, “may I have your attention please?”

She held the eyes of everyone in the room, the queen surveying over her kingdom with unwavering fierceness.

“I’m pleased to tell you,” her lips pecked at a smile, “that Detective Fisher has apprehended Mr. Lewis Moskowitz’s killer.”

The laboratory filled with the syncopation of applause and people cheering. The stitch had been extremely simple, but it was the first break any of them had received in a while. It called for celebration. Cameron and Linus reached across their monitors without moving their eyes and bumped their fists together. Camille pumped hers in the air and let out a gleeful ‘ _whoop_ ’. Kirsten didn’t turn to face them, but her lips were stuck in a grin.

“We all did well today.” Maggie continued from her perch, “I encourage everyone to take tonight to celebrate and rest up for tomorrow.”

With the scout master’s dismissal, people began to shut down their stations and dissolve out of the room. Kirsten hung back for a moment, finger nails mindlessly drumming into the arm of her chair. She was waiting for Linus and Cameron to finish talking. They would be finishing up soon, anyway. This morning Camille spent an extra four minutes in her bedroom, which means she was trying to find coordinating underwear, which means she is planning on having sex tonight. Today was Thursday. On Thursdays Fabrizio’s serves all you can eat breadsticks. Camille loves breadsticks. And in three… two… one.

“Hola mi amigos!” Camille chirped, “Nice work today.”

Cameron only shrugged in a modest sort of way while Linus flexed his minuscule muscles and kissed each bicep.

“So you guys heard the chief,” she said with a devious lilt, “we should celebrate.”

Before he could formulate a response, Camille sent Cameron a striking glare to inform him that he wasn’t actually invited. Cameron nodded and put his hands above his head.

“I would _love_ to,” he said with mock guilt, “but I can’t.”

“Oh really?” Linus cocked his head to the side, “Why not?”

The heat in Camille’s stare intensified. Cameron glanced nervously between the two of them.

“I was- uh,” he stammered, “I was going to-“

Kirsten stepped in from behind them, “Accompany me to the Wilson Sisters’ Drive In for the 8:30pm showing of Back to the Future.”

The three colleges blinked at her with mouths slightly agape. Kirsten met their gazes with solid eyes and a quirked eyebrow.

“Great!” Camille was the first to recover from the shock, “So _Linus_ , up for some Italian?”

“Yeah,” he said, eyes still jumping from Kirsten to Cameron, “yeah Italian sounds fantastico!”

Camille glared at him dryly before slinging her messenger tote over her soldier and heading toward the elevator. Linus gave Cameron a “get some” shoulder pat and followed after her.

Once they were alone, Kirsten took a step closer- closer than they usually stood, Cameron noted. Her brown eyes were dark, hinting at something hidden beneath the surface. It made him nervous.

“So,” his voice cracked.

“Wilson’s is the third most popular drive-in in the L.A area.” Kirsten said crossing her arms over her chest, “out of seven, I figure that’s a low enough rating to attract a less numerous crowd but still high enough to not be disgusting.”

Cameron grinned, “Good thinking, Holmes.”

“Pick me up at 7:50.” she wasn’t fazed by the nickname, “Wear that blue button up, the dark one.”

And with a wanton flick of her ponytail, Kirsten turned to leave, leaving Cameron with his ears ringing and palms sweaty.

“W-why?” he questioned, running a hand through his hair.

“You look good in it.” she remarked without turning around.

Cameron didn’t move for another minute until Ayo moved passed him to head home. He shook his head to jump start his thoughts and caught up with her before she went up.

“Hey, Ayo,” he said gingerly, “how were Kirsten’s stats during the stitch? Anything… unusual?”

Ayo raised an eyebrow, “No, why?”

Cameron cleared his throat, “No reason.”

0o0o0o0o0

Camille got home around 7:00, laughing to herself in random spurts as she stepped through the door. Kirsten sat on the edge of the couch fidgeting with the hem of her pants. She hadn’t been waiting very long, at least she hoped she hadn’t. As soon as her roommate walked in, Kirsten sprung off the couch.

Camille jumped a little but her shoulders slacked and she smiled warmly.

“Ah hello, Roomie.” she slurred, “I can’t stay long. Just picking up the balloons. Almost forgot ‘em. That would have been messy.”

She side-stepped past Kirsten but the blonde only took a step back to block her path again.

“Balloons?” Kirsten questioned before shaking her head, “Never mind. I require your assistance.”

Camille looked taken back, “You mean there’s something in this world that I can do that you-“

“I said I required your assistance.” Kirsten interjected flatly, “Calm down.”

The brunette scowled and rocked back onto her heels, her brief moment of glee terminated. She followed her roommate to the back bedroom where four shirt and skirt combos were laid out on the mattress. Kirsten stood beside the bed and watch Camille with wide, expectant eyes. After she didn’t say anything she gestured to the clothing.

“Well?” she insisted.

Camille just stared, “Oh my God.”

“What?” Kirsten said straightening up.

“You want to look nice for your date with Cameron!” Camille practically squealed, “You like him!”

Pinching the bridged of her nose, Kirsten sighed, “Camille, I just need your advice so I look publicly acceptable. Don’t read too much into this. What are you doing?”

“Texting Linus that I’m going to be a little later.” her phone was inches from her face, “This definitely takes priority.”

“I _just­_ want to know which outfit I should wear,” Kirsten articulated carefully, but Camille had already disappeared down the hall.

Throwing her hands up, Kirsten followed her roommate into the opposite bedroom and was horrified to find her eagerly surveying her overcrowded vanity; picking off small compacts and brushes here and there.

“ _What are you doing?_ ” Kirsten hissed but Camille waved her hands frantically and shushed her.

“When’s your date?” she asked, dropping the contents of her arms onto the bed and retreating into the bathroom.

“He’s picking me up at 7:50. And it’s _not_ a date.”

“Like hell,” she plugged a curling iron into the outlet by the bed.

“Camille this is completely unnecessary.” Kirsten continued to protest as foundation was smeared across her face.

“What if he dresses up, huh? You don’t want your boyfriend to look better than you. He may look as good or worse, but not better.”

“He isn’t my boyfriend and I already know what he’s going to wear.”

“Oh do you, now?” Camille hesitated before putting eyeshadow on her.

“I do.” Kirsten sassed, “He’s wearing the navy button up.”

“ _Oh yes please_.”

“I know,” Kirsten smirked proudly. “What is that?”

“Lip liner, now stop talking.”

“Lip what?”

“Stop! You’re going to smear it.”

A loud _ding_ made them both jump.

“Woo!” Camille clapped like an elementary school girl, “Curling iron is ready.”

The device looked absolutely menacing in Camille’s hands.

0o0o0o0o0

Kirsten never considered herself to be beautiful. She never considered herself to be anything. She was the abandoned girl with no past, and up until a few months ago, no future. Now, standing in front of Camille’s full length mirror, hair draping over her painted face in lose curls that spiraled over a lavender dress, she did look beautiful. She _felt_ beautiful.

Camille beamed beside her, obviously proud of her handy work. Hell, why shouldn’t she be?

“Thank you for your help.” Kirsten said almost bashfully.

Camille took it in stride, “You’re welcome, Roomie.”

She moved away from the mirror, but Kirsten stayed put. The longer she looked, the more scenarios she created of what could go wrong, why this was a bad idea.

“This is all probably just residual emotion.” she admitted, her voice rimmed with disappointment.

“What the heck are you talking about?” Camille whirled around.

“All of this,” Kirsten made a sweeping motion with her arms, “the movie, the makeup, the _feelings_. I can’t use logic to explain them. It’s probably because it’s not really me.”

Camille gawked, “Uh, Kirsten? You went into the mind of an asexual accountant who’s only outside of work activity was NASCAR. _How_ could this be residual emotion?”

Kirsten didn’t say anything. She knew it didn’t make any sense, but that had to have been the reason.

“I think,” Camille said smiling, “you’re going to have to face the terrible fact that you, Kirsten Clark, are capable of actual human emotion.”

She brought her hands to the sides of her face and drew them out in an exploding motion before scurrying out of the room. Kirsten chuckled. Could it be? Logically, it didn’t make sense for these kinds of feelings to be coming from Lewis Moskowitz’s memories, but it made even less sense for them to be her own. Didn’t it?

Why did she care what shirt Cameron was wearing, or how his hair looked from day to day? Why did she secretly hope the elevator doors would open one morning and he’d be wearing those goofy glasses? Why did her chest feel tight every time he talked about Marta? Why did her hands want to touch him every time that awful sadness reached his eyes and why did she stop them?

She couldn’t explain. She simply knew they were real, a part of her, even if she hid them from the entire world. That was all she had ever done. She hid behind a cold face and a hard, calculating mind.

The doorbell chimed through the hall.

She wasn’t hiding anymore.


	2. Chapter 2

Cameron fiddled helplessly with the collar of his shirt, trying to assuage the fabric as it defied gravity. This whole situation seemed too insane to be reality, but here he was. Linus had texted him earlier to say that Camille had postponed their… _activity_ for the evening in order to help Kirsten get ready. This made him nervous for two reasons.

One, he was already anxious about tonight; what to say, how to act. He was going to have enough trouble as it was forming comprehensive sentences, and Kirsten looking like something straight out of a romance novel _was not_ going to help. Two, it seemed so out of place. Did Camille even give Kirsten a say? He didn’t want her to be something she wasn’t. Whether or not this was an actual date, he wanted it to be with _her_.

Camille’s body flung against the door, making him jump. Her smile reached across her entire face and she met his eyes with a devious wiggle of her eyebrow. Opening the door in a dragged out, dramatic fashion, she ushered him inside. He stared at her skeptically, catching a glimpse of the foil packet sticking out of her jean pocket, and blushed.

“Hi Camille.” he tried to keep his voice from sounding too stiff.

She didn’t say anything, lips still holding their sassy curve. Slowly, she circled him like a bird of prey, eyes running down the length of his body.

“You were _definitely_ right about the shirt.” she sang over her shoulder.

“Camille, stop harassing him and get to your booty call.” Kirsten said as she entered the room.

Everything in his peripheral vision seemed to smear, leaving only the blonde in perfect focus. Cameron felt his jaw drop and his mouth open, slightly. He’d never seen Kirsten in a dress before, but the way the fabric hugged her chest and flared out gracefully at her hips made him think he could easily get used to it. Her hair was down, delicate gold spirals framing her face. _God, her face._

“Kirsten,” he was forgetting how to form words, “you look- “

“Easy, lover boy.” Camille teased.

“ _Stunning_.” he mused without missing a beat.

Kirsten brought her gaze down to meet the floor quickly as she felt the color rise in her cheeks and could only hope that Cameron- and Camille, for that matter- couldn’t see it.

“Yeah, I’m pretty good.” the brunette said with a satisfied flip of her hair, “As much as I’d love to see my hard work pay off, I have things to do.”

She saluted Kirsten before rising on her toes so she was almost eye level with Cameron. Turning away from her roommate, she leaned in close to his ear.

“Feel free to try any and _all_ kinds of funny business.” she whispered, slipping something into his jacket pocket.

He watched her sashay out the door as Kirsten came up beside him. Petrichor and lemon engulfed his senses. Had she always smelled so sweet, or was he just starting to notice it?

“She’s really proud of herself.” Kirsten observed.

“She should be.” he said before sucking in a breath, “I mean… you’d look great anyway, with or without Camille’s help. I just… there’s no denying that… you’re beautiful… right now.”

He was going to smother himself when he got home, Cameron decided. 

Excepting some witty retort, he was surprised when Kirsten grinned wide enough to show her porcelain teeth.

“So do you.” she reached out to adjust his collar, “Whoever told you to wear this shirt has amazing taste. You should listen to them more.”

“Actually,” his face relaxed to match her grin, “she’s a huge pain in the ass. You guys would hit it off really well.”

“Tool.” she muttered.

His brain felt like it was trembling inside his skull, thoughts jumbled and incomplete: the playful glint in her autumn eyes, the proximity of her face to his, the heat of her breath making his skin tingle.  

“So, Cinderella,” his throat was tight, “your carriage awaits.”

Kirsten’s face tensed ever so slightly, but it relaxed so fast Cameron had to question whether or not he was seeing things.

“Thank you, Fairy Godmother,” she said turning back toward her bedroom, “just let me grab my bag.”

Once she was out of his line of sight, Kirsten let her guise fade and her lips fold into a grimace. She didn’t want to ruin tonight by carrying all of her usual baggage with her. Still, she dared to glance at the cassette player sitting on her bedside table. _Cinderella_ was the third story on Ed’s tape; following _The Frog Prince_ and before _Beauty and The Beast_.

Shaking her head, Kirsten grabbed the silver purse she was boring from Camille and vowed that her past would stay entombed behind her closing door.

0o0o0o0o0

The pair arrived fifteen minutes before the movie was supposed to start. Just as Kirsten had predicted, the drive-in lot was much less crowded than some of the other outdoor theaters Camille had complained about. She liked that there wasn’t a monstrous number of cars. The setting felt more secluded, more intimate.

Cameron said that he preferred to park in the back, near the tree line that encircled most of the space, creating a natural amphitheater. The blonde made no objections.

“What kind of candy do you want?” he asked as they shuffled out of the convertible.

Kirsten whipped her head around to stare at him with wide, owl eyes.

“They sell _candy_ at _movie theaters_?” she gaped.

Cameron clapped his hands together and spun on his heel as laughter erupted from his chest. She continued to gawk at him, but the corners of her mouth crept upward.

“Yes, Stretch, the sell candy.” he said, sounding slightly dumbfounded.

As he halted in place the content of his jacket pocket, which had been stirred by his childish outburst, fell to the ground. They both looked at the object with furrowed brows. Kirsten knelt to pick it up and froze as she brought the item into the light.

“Pretty confident in yourself, aye Stud?” she said holding the condom out in front of him.

Cameron stared at the blue plastic in horror, heat filling his face.

“I… I don’t,” he stammered.

Kirsten rolled her eyes and starting giggling but he could barely hear it over the ringing in his ears.

“Breath, hot shot,” she insisted, “I saw Camille slip something into your pocket. I figured it was sexual in nature.”

He was going to hurl. Or pass out. One of the two. The perfect end to this nightmare.

“Cameron,” she said placing her hand firmly on his forearm, “its _fine_.”

Sliding the foil packet into her purse, she took his hand and began leading him down the dirt path toward the snack shed.

0o0o0o0o0

Kirsten hopped into the passenger seat and tossed a mystery jelly bean into her mouth.

“I don’t know why you’re so grumpy about me paying.” she mulled over the cotton candy taste.

Cameron sunk into the seat beside her, a small bag of popcorn in his hand.

“I’m the guy,” he muttered, “I’m supposed to pay.”

The blonde tilted her head and looked at him with genuine confusion.

“That’s ridiculous.” she said popping another bean onto her pallet, “This was my idea, I should pay.”

“It’s the gentlemanly thing to do.” he said and noticed her wince, “What?”

Shaking her head, she said, “One, that’s a super weak argument. Two, I think this one is curry flavored.”

“Let me see,” he held out his hand and she placed a lime green bean in his palm.

He tossed it into his mouth and chewed exaggeratedly for a moment.

“It’s good.” he mused.

Kirsten held the box up to her face and searched the chart printed onto the side.

“Nice,” she said turning to him with a sarcastic smirk, “you like grass.”

“Damn right I do.”

She started to laugh but gained control of herself quickly as the movie started.

0o0o0o0o0

They watched in comfortable silence for a long time, leaning closer and closer together every other scene. Already knowing the trilogy like the back of his hand, Cameron paid little attention to what was happening on the screen.

He couldn’t risk turning his head to look at her, she’d kick his ass. Instead, he had to settle for her warped reflection produced by the windshield. His thoughts wandered briefly to a conversation they’d had the month before; seeing people vulnerable and real.

It was more than a little surprising just how _different_ the blonde looked when she wasn’t focusing on keeping her face stoic or analyzing emotions she didn’t understand. She just _was_ ; wide eyes imbued with curiosity and whimsy, an easy smile that wasn’t the forced copy of someone else’s happiness.

Cameron was so transfixed he didn’t register her voice as her lips formed a question.

“Sorry, what?” he said shaking himself out of his stupor.

Under more scrutiny, he could see the creases of unease on her face. It was the same look she wore anytime she caught someone- often Cameron - staring at her, as if she couldn’t possibly fathom why anyone would want to look at her.   

“If you aren’t going to watch the movie,” she said accusingly, “why did you agree to come?”

Her defensive tone struck him as funny. How often does Kirsten Clark get flustered?

“As I recall,” he said coolly as he draped his arm over the back of the seat, “you left no room for an argument.”

Kirsten silently thanked any god possibly in existence that it was dark and the flare of her cheeks was hidden in shadow. Then something occurred to her. No, she _hadn’t_ left any room for an argument. Because she liked Cameron. She wanted to go on a date with him, have long fruitless debates with him, get to know him. So she bought these tickets and told him- not asked, _told_ him- that they were going out.

She hadn’t had trouble forming grammatically correct sentences in that moment. She hadn’t had this insufferable fluttery feeling in her chest. She’d felt _fire_.

“Well, Mr. Goodkin,” she said dropping her voice, turning her shoulders so she was facing him directly, “I do apologize if I’ve inconvenienced you.”

She shifted closer to him, like a jungle cat slinking through underbrush. His green eyes widened and she could see his jaw tighten as her face neared his.

“I promise,” her breath warming his lips, “you’re free to go at any time.”

At this proximity, she could see the nerves behind his eyes exploding as his pupils dilated. Hers traveled down his face to his lips and she noticed with a smirk that they’re trembling slightly. Based on a purely analytical view of emotions, he was displaying all the textbook signs for both fear and arousal, which left her feeling oddly satisfied.

Cameron was struggling to breath, talk, or _think_ like a normal person. Kirsten’s mouth was torturously close to his and for a blissful, ludicrous moment, he thought she was going to kiss him. Instead, she sunk back into her seat, a prideful taunt on her lips and her eyes returned to the screen.

For the next thirty minutes, Cameron could not make his muscles relax. Periodically- every six seconds or so- he would glance at the blonde and wait for something to happen. The atmosphere was similar to the wait before a bomb detonates.

Kirsten never turned her head, but she, too, had ceased paying attention to the movie. Her eyes remained on the images in front of her, but her focus was on her peripheral vision. Every time she saw him shift subtly to look at her, her smirk broadened. Keeping her movements slight, she glanced down into her lap as she held her purse open. Silently she searched for the small foil packet, just in case.


End file.
